


Straightforward Thinking

by TheSwordAndTheQuill



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwordAndTheQuill/pseuds/TheSwordAndTheQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d caught him looking at her in the Council meeting this morning.  It had been the briefest of glances, the quickest flash of a moment where their eyes caught and held.  Maybe she wouldn’t have thought more of it if it hadn’t been for that damn smile that had played on the edges of his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straightforward Thinking

She’d caught him looking at her in the Council meeting this morning. It had been the briefest of glances, the quickest flash of a moment where their eyes caught and held. Maybe she wouldn’t have thought more of it if it hadn’t been for that damn smile that had played on the edges of his lips. Though gone when she’d dared another glance, she knew what she’d seen, and the memory of it burned in her mind even as her heart pounded a little quicker in her chest.

After the meeting she’d lingered to run a few numbers by the Inquisitor, and by the time matters were settled she’d been late to meet with her staff. Hurrying out of the hall she’d only half registered the fact that Cullen was trying to come in the same door she was going out. They hovered awkwardly for a moment, each trying to get out of the way and failing. He’d been laughing, but she’d felt the heat start to burn in her face, she hadn’t been this close to him since…

Huffing in irritation she’d stepped right, intending to duck under his outstretched arm to freedom. At the same moment he’d reached to help her maneuver and his hand, which had more than likely been aiming for her arm, landed on her waist instead. She’d frozen, painfully aware of the stretch of his fingers across her ribs, the heat of his skin that radiated through the silk and boning of her corset. With an awkward cough he’d stepped aside and used the offending hand to guide her past him into the hall.

“My apologizes Lady Josephine.” He’d said, then turned and walked into the War Room without a backwards glance. Shoving down her embarrassment and whatever else it was that insisted on rattling around in her chest she’d hurried away, met with her staff, and then buried herself under the biggest pile of paper work she could find.

It hadn’t helped. Nearly five hours later she could still feel the pressure of his fingertips as they’d dug into her hip. It was a foolish thought. Anyone who knew the nature of the world half so well as Josephine Montilyet knew there was no time to be worrying about anything so trivial as the remembered heat of skin on skin. Even if it had been such a long time…  
Frustrated she threw down the quill she was holding; then swore at the black stain that began to spread over her carefully copied words. An hour’s work ruined, she have to start again. With a sigh she gathered up the soiled papers only to drop them in surprise as she looked up.

Cullen stood in the doorway, one hand half raised and an odd expression in his eyes, where the hell he’d come from she had no idea.

“Don’t you bloody knock?” She snapped, scooping up the papers again and shoving them unceremoniously into a drawer. She’d be angry at her self for that later, she’d probably just crunched good parchment, but she wasn’t about to let him see her desk looking like a sloppy schoolgirl’s. 

“I was about to.” Cullen said, wagging the outstretched hand back and forth and then lightly rapping on her doorframe with one knuckle. “Are you well?”

“Perfectly.” Schooling her features was as easy as breathing, it always had been. In the past, as tension in her life escalated she found it easier and easier to slide on the mask, the higher the stakes, the more confident her exterior. It was a talent that had served her well in the past. Today, well today she wasn’t so sure. “What can I do for you Commander?”

He squinted at her for a long moment then shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I just wanted to stop in, make sure you were still feeling confidant about those new supply lines, I’m ready to send this weeks troop movements out, but I need those lines.”  
Grateful to be back on more solid footing, Josephine reached for a thick ledger and thumbed through it.

“Here.” She said, standing and rounding the desk, turning the volume so he could get a better look. A map spread gracefully across the open pages, and she reached out a finger to trace a line marked in deep red.

“This,” she began, trying to ignore him as he stepped in close to peer over her shoulder “is the information my contact in Starkhaven sent. I have no reason to disbelieve its accuracy.” Behind her he shifted, his hip grazing hers as he leaned forward to study the page more closely. 

“Good.” He said, his voice a deep rumble that suddenly left her feeling too warm for comfort. “That position should give our scouts plenty of time to spot trouble when it inevitably chooses to appear.”

“Good.” She echoed lamely, sidestepping away, putting the corner of the desk between them. He looked up as if expecting her to continue. She didn’t.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked, and in his face she saw friendly concern mixed with something deeper, something sharper.

“Yes.” She said, a little too forcefully. They looked at each other for a long moment then Cullen nodded once. She gripped the edge of the desk and held on tight.

“Do you know what I think?” He said quietly, shifting his weight toward her by degrees.

“Do I care?” She responded, trying for some of the old spark that used to make their conversations crackle with frustrated energy. This new spark, the one that was quickly leaping into flames deep in her gut, was far more dangerous. He smiled, not rising to the bait. 

“I think you’re very good at your job.”

“Oh?” She said, confused. “Is that so?”

“Mmmm.” He closed the gap between them in one smooth step. She felt her fingertips going numb as she dug them into the smooth polished oak.

“I think you see the big picture.” His voice was so low she had trouble hearing it over the pounding in her ears. “I think you understand better than most of us just how much is at stake. Its what makes you so valuable, to the Inquisitor, to the cause…to me…” Reaching out he pulled her hands away from the desktop and absently began rubbing feeling back into her white knuckles. “But I also think that understanding comes at a cost.” Ducking his head he looked her square in the eye.

“How long has it been since you though about yourself first? Even just a little?” He was so close now she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“I…don’t…it isn’t…” She stammered and then scowled. “What at your saying Cullen?”

“I’m saying,” He said, leaning back a little to give her some space but keeping her hands in his. “That I’ve thought about this a lot Jo. I’m not going to compromise our mission, but I’m tired of putting what I want on the back burner. Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow?” Pulling her hands to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to each palm before releasing them and moving for the door. Just inside the doorframe he looked back at her. 

“Do yourself a favor. Figure out what you want…and take it. You don’t have to be the diplomat every hour of the day.” And with that he was gone, leaving her rather weak kneed, but feeling strangely light. 

She might have stood there the rest of the day, but as she glanced down the crumpled corner of her ruined parchment sticking out of the desk drawer caught her eye. She sighed and reached for a fresh quill. Settling back in her chair she allowed herself one quick glance at the empty doorway before turning her thoughts firmly back to the task at hand. Work would come first. It must. But later, when she might normally have been pouring over reports for the fifth time, maybe she’d take a stroll on the parapets. She knew he liked to walk there in the evening. 

Maybe he was right. Only time would tell.


End file.
